Intimacy
by sarabethloves
Summary: Every member of Team Mustang knows that something is unique about Roy and Riza's relationship. But how exactly did they all come to figure that out? Series of oneshots detailing the ways in which everyone realized that their superiors were a bit more than commanding officer and adjutant.
1. Chapter 1

**Here's a little something short and sweet for you guys! Things have been pretty busy for me lately but this idea took me over and I couldn't stop myself from getting it done. I just love the idea of Team Mustang all having their own ways of catching those rare moments Roy and Riza let slip what they truly feel about each other, even if they don't realize it. First we have Havoc's experience, next up will be Fuery's! Enjoy!**

* * *

Second Lieutenant Havoc prided himself on his ability to read people. Most sized him up as all brawn and no brains, but the sandy-haired marksman was no fool. He may not have gotten the highest scores in school or knew all the in's and out's of political diplomacy, but understanding people? That he could do.

So it didn't take him long after joining the renowned "hero" Lieutenant-Colonel Mustang's team, to figure out there was something more than a respectful working relationship going on with the Flame Alchemist and his adjutant.

The first few weeks in East City had been benign, textbook even. The unrest in Ishval was starting to feel more past than present and the Amestrian military was finally settling into a monotonous routine. What the second lieutenant knew would turn into a ragtag team of soldiers was starting to come together, slowly but surely. Havoc's old buddy Breda from the academy had also signed on to the flame colonel's troupe, and they would soon be adding another, some brainy kid fresh out of the academy who knew his way around a radio.

It had been a long week, and Jean suggested they all spend their night off right...with a lot of alcohol.

Heymans was on board immediately, as well as a few other stragglers outside the team who were distant pals of the two of them. The lieutenant had already witnessed his superior's expert handling of the more feminine variety of military employees and was interested in gleaning some of his skills for the night, so he'd been an instant invite. The lieutenant-colonel had mountains of paperwork (as Jean was beginning to discover was a common theme), but he still smiled charmingly and agreed to come along, much to his new assistant's chagrin.

Ah, and that was where the second lieutenant started to wonder. He'd extended the invite to her, of course, but hadn't been the slightest bit surprised that she'd immediately turned it down. Second Lieutenant Hawkeye was a woman of routine, that much he'd discovered. For all the notoriety of her wartime reputation, the "Hawk's Eye" was nothing more than a quiet organizer and an effective presence forcing them to finish their paperwork. For all his people smarts, Jean knew she was the last person he'd expect to find at a bar.

Still, the rapidly growing "Team Mustang" was persistent. Breda seemed like a harmless, pudgy fellow a bit too entranced by sandwiches, but he was a master sweet-talker. Combined with the suspicious goading of their superior, Hawkeye never stood a chance. After enough convincing, she sighed, rubbed the bridge of her nose, and agreed to spare an hour or two. Good enough for the rest of them.

After finishing the last dredges of the week's work, the group (minus Hawkeye, who wanted to go home and change) made their way to a cozy bar not far from headquarters. It didn't take much time for them to settle at a table, blast through a few rounds, and become boisterously taken by the night.

The more inebriated Havoc got, the more confident he became. That confidence manifested itself the moment a pretty group of women settled into the table a few spots over from theirs. Jean had quickly voiced his interest to the rest of the men, who all shamelessly agreed. Taking his moment, the lieutenant propositioned his superior for the help he'd long sought after. There was only one issue with that plan, however.

Where Havoc had hoped he'd find a wingman, he'd gotten a competitor.

Mustang had tossed back the last of his drink (what number it was, no one knew) and swaggered over to the group, knowing he couldn't disappoint. His subordinate figured he'd say a few sweet words, get them giggling, and start listing the accolades of his "dashing" second lieutenant (who just so happened to be freshly single). Instead, the lieutenant-colonel had settled right in, the women fawning over the powerful man in a uniform in seconds.

Needless to say, Jean Havoc felt positively betrayed.

Drowning his sorrows in another pint of beer while Breda practically chortled from his side, Havoc lamented, "How the hell does he do it? One look and they're all melting into puddles at his feet. And here I thought all that womanizing talk was just for show."

With a knowing twinkle in his eye, Breda slapped his buddy on the back. "Don't take it personally, man. I have a feeling he'll find something else to occupy his time eventually."

"Sorry I'm late," a new voice spoke from the side of their table. Havoc lifted his head to find Hawkeye warily sizing the group up, no doubt wondering how much she'd missed. While objectively Jean knew the astute second lieutenant didn't live her entire life in a military uniform, he was still surprised to find her in a knee length skirt and flattering blouse, switching her bulky boots for light pink flats. It was hard to remember she was a young, beautiful woman, when she chose to define herself as something entirely different most of the time.

Still, Havoc didn't want to be caught staring. And he was still positively bristling from his superior taking all his potential dates. He invited her to sit and listen to him mope, which earned a small and somewhat amused smile, the closest he'd seen to happiness from her since they'd started working together. "I think I'll need a drink first," she told him in a rare teasing tone before turning and walking toward the bar, a strangely high number of eyes following her form.

Breda shook his head and shoved against his distraught and slightly tipsy friend. "Don't drag everyone else into your pity party, Havoc. This was supposed to be a casual get together after a long week of work."

"Yeah, well, say that to our boss. First chance he got to flirt, he took it." He'd only been working under Mustang for a few weeks, but he still couldn't keep the bitter tone from his voice.

Surprising him, Breda let out a quiet laugh. "I don't think you need to worry about him anymore. Seems he's got other things on his mind," he spoke, gesturing over to where Hawkeye had gone. Confused, Havoc turned to look toward the direction Breda had indicated and tilted his head curiously. In what had felt like an instant, the group of giggling, fawning women was instantly forgotten. There, casually leaned against the surface of the bar, with a suspiciously relaxed and familiar gaze, was their "womanizing" superior. Despite the multitude of beautiful women milling about, the notorious playboy had his eyes on only one. The colonel and lieutenant spoke casually, fondly even. Gone was the Flame Alchemist's cocky and devilish smile, replaced with a softness around his eyes none of them had ever witnessed.

What was even more shocking was seeing the way Lieutenant Hawkeye's entire form had relaxed. She clearly wasn't comfortable in a setting such as this, but nevertheless looked quite at ease as she discussed something with her superior. Knowing the two of them, it was no doubt boring and work-related but…. _still_. The way their entire countenances changed instantly in each other's presence was all the evidence Havoc needed.

Sobering up momentarily, the second lieutenant turned away from the pair and brought his glass to his lips. In a weird way it felt almost _wrong_ to look upon them like that. They were in the middle of a busy bar, sure, but the intimacy they were showing felt too private to ever be a part of. Suddenly, the rumors concerning his superiors that he'd refused to believe were even slightly plausible felt a lot more real.

Not his place, Havoc immediately decided. Most didn't like to give him credit for things like this, but he was no fool.

With a new spring in his step, Havoc set down his drink, straightened his jacket, and got up from the table, every cheesy pick-up line in the book ready to go. Suddenly Lieutenant-Colonel Mustang felt like a substantially smaller threat than he used to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Finally! Here is part 2! Sorry for the long wait, my life is super busy right now but I've been meaning to get this chapter written for forever and I finally got it all down! I know I said I would do Fuery next but this is probably my favorite of the group so I couldn't help myself. Without further ado, here is Falman's story!**

* * *

Sweat trickled down Vato Falman's forehead and for the first time ever, he actually _wished_ to be back in the cold tundra of Briggs. The sun bared down on the training grounds of East City's headquarters in waves of heat, the early August summer in full force. The veteran second lieutenant was never one to complain, but this was just intolerable.

While the spritely new recruits were certainly in a more difficult position given the harsh calls of their drill sergeants and the intense exercises they were repeatedly made to do, they at least had reasonable clothing on for the weather. Never had Falman hated the heavy blue wool of his uniform more.

With his back straight and his face working tirelessly to not reveal his discomfort, he followed after the self-absorbed general he had been assigned to accompany all day as said man sneered and stuck his nose up at the showings of the recruits. Vato had always been a fair person, unwilling to make judgement calls so readily, but General Hakuro was the kind that could force even the gentlest person to be overcome with hatred. The conversation from this morning was evidence enough of that fact.

While Hakuro had once held his iron fist over the East City branch of the military, the openings from the Promised Day coup gave him a spot in Central, which he had no problems openly bragging about. Still, he had to make regular visits to his old division, on the pretense of "checking-in" on the progress of his successor, a very frustrated new Brigadier-General Mustang.

The whole of East City headquarters had been dreading Hakuro's return, but none more so than the Flame Alchemist. They had butted heads since Mustang had first been posted under Hakuro after Ishval, and their animosity had only grown over the past few years. The elderly general hadn't worked with the homunculi unlike most of his colleagues (too focused on himself, Roy had always figured), so he'd been allowed to stay in the military and climb the ranks even further than he already had. Yet, he knew Mustang too well to shrug aside his involvement in the coup. While the new fuhrer had knowingly and purposely turned a blind eye to Mustang's role, Hakuro still brought it up whenever they were anywhere near each other.

Needless to say, things had been tense lately, but everything culminated that morning when Hakuro claimed he would spend the day observing and overseeing the training of the military's newest members. While General Mustang normally wouldn't care about such a thing, his superior's demands had fueled an intense verbal spar unlike anything Falman had witnessed before.

And that was saying something, given who his last commanding officer had been.

" _I'm going to need a security detail if I'm going to be out in the open. I don't fully trust you've secured the entirety of headquarters as well as I would have, Mustang," Hakuro gritted out, his tone superior and his gaze firm and deadly. Falman watched from his place behind the new general as Mustang's entire body tensed, no doubt fighting the angry expression that wanted to reveal itself._

 _Gritting his teeth, the brigadier-general answered. "Alright, I'll assign you some of our best guards, sir." The effort it must've taken to utter any measure of respect had to have been immense, the lieutenant figured._

 _As Mustang's entire team watched warily, Hakuro's face twisted into a satisfied smirk. "That won't nearly be good enough. It's not befitting of our ranks for you to take the greatest of them all and leave me your seconds. I'll be using members of your own team as guards."_

 _Falman wasn't looking directly at him to notice, but he was sure Mustang's face paled before it reddened in rising anger. "Is that really necessary, sir? My team is under_ my _command." No one missed the possessiveness in his tone._

 _Hakuro's face did not falter. "And_ you _are under_ mine. _Therefore, I have a right to everything you deem your own. Your team will spend the day with me while you go and do your job..._ Brigadier _." The emphasis on Mustang's title did not go unnoticed. All five members of the illustrious 'Team Mustang' fidgeted uncomfortably, not liking the implications of any of this._

" _And just what exactly am I supposed to do?" Mustang asked, somewhat foolishly. He was beginning to sound like a petulant child getting his toys taken away from him. While his team knew his feelings went far deeper than that, Falman also knew General Hakuro wouldn't see it as anything else._

 _Letting out a scoff, his superior answered him, "Christ, Mustang, aren't you supposed to be the big genius upstart here? I think you'll manage to survive a day or two without all of your little lackeys around you. I only need a couple anyway."_

 _Falman chanced a glance at his superior and found Mustang looking like an exaggerated character from a newspaper comic. Falman half-expected to see steam pouring from his ears at any moment. Roy had always hated the liberties Hakuro took in the name of rank and the lieutenant could tell this time was no different. Still, there wasn't a whole lot he could do, and they all (especially Hakuro) knew it._

 _Stabling his anger, Mustang replied. "Alright then, Havoc and Breda should do you just fine." Falman knew by the strained tone of his voice that his commanding officer didn't want to throw his subordinates under the bus, but he also could tell why those two had been chosen._

 _Hakuro wasn't done being an all around pest, however. With a sickening smile, the general tipped his head. "And what makes you think you can choose for me? As I recall, Lieutenant Havoc was wheelchair-bound up until a few months ago and Lieutenant Breda looks like he could stand to hit up the military gym more often."_

 _The confidence with which Hakuro delivered his statement made Falman genuinely concerned his superior would lunge out at the man. Mustang seemed to settle for balling up his fists and gritting his teeth to hold himself back._

" _No, I will be choosing my own escort. You, tall guy. Aren't you the one who can remember anything you see?"_

 _At having been finally addressed by the intimidating man, Falman gulped and regrettably answered with the truth, "Y-Yes sir."_

" _Good, I need someone who pays attention to details. And that small one there with the glasses is your radio guy, right Mustang? He'll do well for me behind the scenes."_

 _The brigadier-general was anything but pleased, yet he still nodded his head to acquiesce to his superior's demands (or more accurately, commands). "Alright,_ sir _, you can have them for the day, but they'd better not-,"_

" _Ah, not so fast, Mustang. Didn't I say it's not appropriate for you to get the best ones and leave me the seconds? I need one more to fill out the team and it would be incredibly rude if you denied me your most_ talented _officer," the older man sneered in a self-satisfied voice, his eyes finding the one member of their team perpetually right at General Mustang's side._

 _This time the Flame Alchemist couldn't help but narrow his eyes in barely held anger._

" _Captain Hawkeye is clearly the most skilled and dutiful member of your little posse. I think she will serve me quite well today."_

 _Falman shuddered at the way Hakuro didn't even try to hide his double meaning._

" _The captain_ _is my_ adjutant _. She's my personal bodyguard," Mustang gritted out, his voice terribly strained._

" _I'm well aware, Brigadier-General. But I think you can spare her for a whole day."_

" _With all due respect,_ sir, _I don't think that would-,"_

 _Again cutting him off, Hakuro quickly spoke, "You didn't protest this much with the others, Mustang. Is there a reason you don't want me to have her?"_

 _Falman inwardly groaned, knowing the veteran general had his subordinate cornered. While the lieutenant knew Mustang would fight more readily to keep Hakuro from snatching away Hawkeye, even if temporary, he also knew how it looked for him to keep arguing. Either his commanding officer had to concede, or he had to reveal something everyone knew Hakuro had been trying to get him to reveal since Riza was first posted at Eastern Command._

 _And while Falman didn't even want to guess at the nature of whatever that may be (he wasn't one to go snooping in other people's personal businesses), he still knew Mustang really had only one option._

 _Without giving any effort to hide his immense distaste, even knowing General Hakuro was eating it up, Mustang was silent for a moment before he nodded his head and simply answered, "Fine, you can have her too."_

 _The smile that spread across the general's face was enough to enrage everyone present. "I thought you might see things my way."_

And so they now found themselves, himself and Hawkeye following around the insufferable man as he dished out quick rebukes and demeaning disregards to anyone he found unworthy of his standards.

Which was everyone, essentially.

Falman couldn't help but worry, though. He chanced a quick glance at his other superior, and found her to look even worse than when he last checked. Captain Hawkeye was still recovering from what had ended up being a rather nasty stomach bug. She'd come into headquarters a few days prior looking as pale as a ghost, and had only left once her superior had given her very firm orders to take care of her health before her military duties. Falman could tell she wasn't quite recovered, but Hakuro's arrival meant she couldn't possibly skip out on work another day. The lieutenant had overheard Mustang promising she would have lighter duties, and even though she had vehemently protested, he was sure none of them could have predicted this.

Falman was also sure Hawkeye hadn't eaten anything that day. She was still nauseous from the days of repeated illness and hadn't been able to stomach much of a breakfast. Combined with the fact that Hakuro had, of course, not included the two of them in his luxurious lunchtime feast nor had allowed them to take some time to eat and get some water, Falman was worried sick the captain was about to drop any second. She certainly looked a little worse for wear, as she followed after the general on unsteady feet.

" _You don't need to worry about me, Falman. I survived Ishval, I think I can stand one day out in the heat,"_ she had told him after he tried to protest earlier. While he knew she could handle herself better than most, being severely dehydrated, ill, and malnourished worked against even the strongest of soldiers.

Still, it wasn't like he could ask the general to give her a break. Hakuro couldn't bear to think of anyone other than himself (as evidenced by their lack of lunch/water breaks), and the lieutenant was sure he would scoff and mumble something about "Mustang's lazy subordinates" if he ever brought it up. He settled for occasionally breaking eye contact on his charge (bodyguard faux pas number one) to check up on her.

They walked around for another hour or so as the sun continued to shine upon them, its rays suffocatingly hot. It was now late afternoon, and Falman began to wonder if he would ever feel cool again. His eyes flickered over to his captain once more, as he had been doing consistently for awhile now, before they immediately widened in concern.

Hawkeye was beginning to sway on her feet. She was drenched in sweat and her eyes were rapidly blinking, seemingly trying to clear the blurred landscape. Falman just knew her body had reached its limits, as they attempted to follow after Hakuro's sure footsteps. The second lieutenant nearly reached out to her, before remembering where he was and what he was doing. He found himself locked in a fierce battle between wanting to help out his superior and knowing her authority meant nothing in comparison to the general, who was just looking for a way to discredit Mustang.

There was nothing he could do as Hawkeye took one more shaking step forward, paused, and let her eyes roll into the back of her head as she collapsed. Not giving a care to anything else, Falman just managed to catch her before she hit her head on the ground, her body completely crumpling.

"Captain! Captain, are you alright?" He exclaimed worriedly, as he began trying to arouse her, not liking the feeling of her racing heart and frightfully hot skin beneath his hands.

Behind him, he heard a displeased scoff, and turned in confusion to find the general looking down at them with eyes that were a mix of distaste and satisfaction. "So this is Mustang's great bodyguard sniper, huh? How weak. Someone who spent months in Ishval passing out because it's a bit hot outside."

Falman had always been unsure whether he was capable of truly hating someone. He was generally a kind and forgiving man, who liked to hear all sides of everyone's story and give people forgiveness where it was warranted.

But now, the second lieutenant could not help the angry glare that took residence on his face as he looked at his "superior" with hatred.

"Leave her be. Someone with enough disrespect to pass out on duty doesn't deserve our attention. Let's go, tall guy," Hakuro said before turning around without another word.

"B-but she needs medical attention! She's probably dehydrated." Immediately at Falman's rebuke, the general stilled and turned around agonizingly slowly. His eyes narrowed dangerously, challenging the second lieutenant to dare question his authority once more.

"She's weak! Soldiers don't pass out when they need to be doing their jobs. Maybe she'll learn that if we leave her. Now, I've had enough of Mustang's incompetence. Let's go."

Falman's eyes immediately flashed back to Riza, and his heart ached. Her dehydration and recent illness combined with the intense heat meant she could be in serious danger if they did nothing. She needed medical attention right away, but this clown of a general wouldn't allow it. Falman was really at a loss of what to do. He took a second to check the captain's racing pulse, which Hakuro immediately noticed before he stepped forward with a menacing presence.

"Second Lieutenant, if you abandon your post to help her, I will consider it an act of direct insubordination," General Hakuro let out in an enraged voice.

Left with a decision, Falman looked from Hawkeye's limp body to his positively incensed superior. General Hakuro was an incredibly powerful man, and his entire military career could be destroyed by this one act.

But more importantly, Riza was a _friend_. And not only did he have a duty to help and protect her, he had a duty to Brigadier-General Mustang. And he knew exactly what his commanding officer would want him to do.

"Sorry, sir," the lieutenant let out in an uncharacteristically determined voice. "But sometimes loyalty trumps authority." Without another thought, Falman's arms reached for the remarkably ill captain, scooping her up and dashing her across the grounds toward the military hospital, decisively ignoring Hakuro's shouts as he went.

* * *

"You're kidding!? I can't believe he would say something like," the doctor taking care of Captain Hawkeye said as she continued performing her physical exam on the sleeping officer.

Falman sat on an uncomfortable chair placed right at Hawkeye's bedside, where he had been since they'd admitted her to the military hospital. He'd just finished explaining the story of what had happened and nodded his head at the doctor's disbelief. "Unfortunately, he's just that kind of person. All the same, Captain Hawkeye is an important member of our team and a good mentor. I couldn't just let her be."

Placing her stethoscope around her neck and shaking her head, the doctor replied. "I'm sure glad you didn't, otherwise she would have been in bad shape. Her electrolytes were completely out of whack and her temperature was scary elevated. Combination of heat stroke and severe dehydration. She's lucky to even be alive."

Falman nodded his head gravely at the doctor's words, knowing that's what she would say. He'd read plenty of medical textbooks while back in the academy and his eidetic memory allowed him to know exactly how serious of a situation this was. He still had to handle Hakuro's wrath, but in his mind it would all be worth it.

"Honestly I can't stand some of these military types. They think the mark of a true soldier is someone who ignores or deprives their body. In medicine we just call those people idiots."

Letting a loose a smile for the first time that day, Falman again nodded his head in agreement. He knew his superior was in good hands. This doctor reminded him a lot of the one stationed out in Briggs, who he'd gotten the pleasure of having many enjoyable conversations with.

"Well, the good news is that she's stabilized somewhat. Her temperature and heart rate have gone down and we're replenishing her fluids and electrolytes. We'll continue to monitor everything and she'll definitely need some good rest, but I expect she'll make a full recovery."

Letting out a weighted breath, Falman shot the doctor a grateful look. "Thank you. You have no idea how much myself and my team appreciate everyone's help."

The doctor smiled and closed the notebook she had been scribbling on. "I think I can chance a guess. I've heard my share of rumors about your team, and I know none of you would be too happy if something happened to her."

"No, we wouldn't," the second lieutenant replied in a serious tone, realizing once more the importance of all the people he'd grouped up with what felt like so long ago.

"Speaking of your team, though, I've been meaning to ask. Has anyone informed her CO of what happened?"

Instantly, Falman's feel good mood deflated a touch and dread plopped like a stone in his stomach. His face twisted and he answered in a wary tone. "Yes, I think so. I sent someone to get a hold of him a little while ago. My guess is once he's informed he'll be knocking down the door."

The doctor lifted an eyebrow and opened her mouth to answer when the pair heard a commotion coming from outside the room. Through the closed door they could only catch parts of someone shouting and many others attempting to keep the peace. Falman had a sinking suspicion what could be going on.

"Let me guess," the doctor began, "That's him."

Falman only nodded his head.

A beat passed before the door to the room was flung open and a positively _furious_ Brigadier-General Mustang came bursting through, out of breath, with his face as red as a tomato. "Falman!" he immediately exclaimed, shaking off the advances of the nurses telling him to keep quiet and calm down. "What the hell happened!? Is she okay?"

Before the lieutenant could even answer his superior, Mustang's eyes went to the hospital bed. They got a glimpse of Hawkeye's still pale and sweaty form before he widened them in shock and what Falman could only consider as true fear. He took a few quiet breaths before his countenance changed into the frighteningly deadly military officer Falman had only caught glimpses of a few times before.

"I'm going to kill Hakuro," he spoke through gritted teeth in a deadly tone. The lieutenant had no doubt in his mind that he was being serious.

Allowing a knowing smile to cross her face, the doctor stepped forward with an outstretched hand. Mustang eyed her warily, but shook it nonetheless. "You must be the CO. I'm Dr. Walker, the one who's been taking care of your captain. She's had quite the past few hours but as I was telling your other subordinate here, we expect her to make a full recovery."

Mustang's fury was dampened somewhat with the doctor's reassurances before he proceeded to deflate and thank her for her help. Dr. Walker explained a bit more about what had happened, the mechanism of heat stroke along with her possible dehydration and laid out what they should expect from her recovery over the next few days. The captain was still blissfully asleep through all of this, the nurses making sure she was well rested given what she'd been through.

Eventually reaching the end of her explanation, Dr. Walker once again shook the brigadier-general's hand, waved to Falman, who also expressed his thanks, and then left them alone, wisely picking up on the need for a more intimate conversation.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Mustang leaned against his adjutant's bed, his eyes taking on a strange look as they gazed at her sleeping form. "Goddamn that bastard. I _told_ him he wasn't supposed to hurt either of you. Son of a bitch can't think of anyone outside of himself."

Falman, in his usual analyzing way, picked up on the weariness that his superior carried himself with. There were bags under his eyes and his shoulders slumped unnaturally. Falman could tell Hakuro's visit had wound Mustang up tight. He was sure what happened with Hawkeye only let loose the floodgates of the general's stress.

The lieutenant kept quiet as Mustang closed his eyes and took a few steadying breaths. He opened them up and then moved around Riza's bed, adjusting her blankets mindlessly. "Breda told me what happened," he eventually said, his back to his subordinate.

"General Hakuro gave me a choice. My duty or the captain's safety. It wasn't really a hard decision."

Mustang scoffed. "It should never be. Trust me, Falman, I don't ever want anyone on my team to think they have to answer to someone above them before they help their teammates. That's not what we're about."

"I know, sir. I'm glad you made that very clear."

Surprising him, Mustang turned around and flashed his second lieutenant a meaningful look. Falman couldn't help but be shocked at the sincerity of his superior's gaze, but what was most surprising was the gratitude he also found there.

"Falman," he began in a strangely quiet voice. "I can't even express how thankful I am for what you did. I'll deal with Hakuro on my own terms, but I want you to know how...grateful I am."

Suddenly the second lieutenant couldn't find a coherent word in his jam-packed mind to reply with. The look in Mustang's eyes was peculiar, but not wholly unexpected. There was more than just the usual fatherly affection the general harbored for everyone on his tight-knit team. There was something else lingering in his words.

It was almost as if Falman had saved _his_ life too, in addition to Captain Hawkeye's.

The second lieutenant had always...known. He was far too good at "paying attention to details", as Hakuro had called it, to not notice something. But still...to see such sincerity and gratefulness from a man known for playing his cards close to the vest was...radical, almost unbelievable.

Falman's eyes drifted to Hawkeye's form as Mustang turned back around, leaning against her bed like it was his lifeline and even more pieces clicked in the lieutenant's mind.

He knew he wouldn't have to worry about Hakuro's fury. Mustang would take the entire brunt of it himself if he had to. He would make it a point to use what had happened as an example. They were a close group of soldiers to start, but another truth was to be known. They all had to look out for each other, but, no matter what obstacles stood in their way, Captain Hawkeye was always to be protected.

And now finally, Falman completely understood why.


End file.
